


by government mandate

by nise_kazura



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Bitching, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drugged Sex, Emetophilia, Gang Rape, Gangbang, Multi, Oral Knotting, Piss, Piss kink, Somnophilia, Spanking, a little bit of, dunno if yall r into that but i am lol, i couldn't find any bitching fics in the hannibal fandom so i decided to fix that, some pseudo-scientific jargon here and there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 08:44:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20991998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nise_kazura/pseuds/nise_kazura
Summary: Without all the jargon, one might describe it as “getting knotted six ways to Sunday”. Or maybe, “fucked into omegahood”.Most simply call it, “bitching”.-Or, alpha male Will Graham gets fucked until he, literally, turns into an omega.





	by government mandate

**Author's Note:**

> pls read ur tags nyall lmao  
and if i forgot anything, please lmk!

They come for him in the dark of the night. Just a knock on his door.

It’s almost polite.

“Will Graham?”

He answers with his gun, alphan fangs bared. 

Something instinctive inside him bristles at the uninvited encroachment upon his territory, at the perceived danger to his pack. When no attack comes, he licks his lips, retracting the reflexive snarl but keeping the gun levelled. 

“Who are you and what do you want?”

“We’re here under orders from the OSPC. I’m going to need you to come with me.”

* * *

The Omega Sustainability and Protection Committee. They formed in 1956, after infertility rates began to edge into a population crisis. Their goal, supposedly, is to fight for omegan safety and preservation in order to upkeep the population, due to the drastically higher fertility rates that omegas have.

Their biggest achievement is the declaration of Omegan Commencement Day. Once a year, one to five (depending on population) are chosen per county to participate. For those, their lives will change forever. 

As for the rest? They go along with their day, pretending nothing happens.

* * *

Will hadn’t checked the date. He should have.

* * *

Even Jack doesn’t have the ability to do anything about it. He is quietly informed, and from there it is out of his hands. He sits in front of the fire in the chair next to Hannibal’s, staring into the flames with a heavy, resigned look on his face.

“Worried about Will?” Hannibal asks.

“Worried about what’ll happen to him when he comes back.”

“Omegas in the force are exceedingly rare. Many would say that they won’t be able to handle the pressure,” Hannibal responds. “Are you worried that he won’t come back at all?”

Jack snorts.

“Omegas in any profession are exceedingly rare.” Except sex work. “That won’t change anything. Not for Will.”

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees. “After all, Will was already a rarity to begin with. That much will remain the same.”

* * *

Will struggles to get his breathing under control, to calm down. He looks around the back of the van, noting the armed guards, the small vents from which an airborne sedative will come if he tries to fight back. He knows how this is supposed to go. They won’t even give him the chance to fight back. And if he does, they’ll find him, and possibly make it worse. He’s heard the stories. Compliance is the best way to go, they all say.

But he begins to doubt it. Maybe that’s all just a myth, to keep people in line. Maybe he can still find a way out of this.

_ Maybe this isn’t happening, _ he thinks, wildly. _ Maybe they finally decided to lock me up in the BSHCI. Maybe they’re just moving me in secret to another crime scene that they have to keep under lock. Maybe the OSPC ran into trouble that requires the FBI, and they’re just transporting me like this for discretion. _

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe anything other than what’s real is happening right now. Maybe he’ll wake up at any second, and he’ll be at home with his dogs. Just another nightmare.

It’s unfortunate for Will that his nightmares often follow him after he wakes.

* * *

Everyone has omegan traits, hidden within. Vestigial slick glands, possibly defunct or closed off wombs, dormant genes. Even alphas can get ovarian cancer. However, natural-born omegas are a rarity nearly unheard of in this day and age. For most, if the recessive omegan genes remain unprompted, they will forever remain unexpressed.

If they remain unprompted.

Luckily enough for the survival of mankind, (or so the founder of the OSPC would say) you don’t have to be born an omega to become one.

* * *

Jack takes another sip of his wine, and slumps back into the armchair, sighing.

“Maybe it was always meant to be this way.”

Hannibal hums.

“Chance has a funny way of expressing itself,” he agrees.

“They say that omegas are the most empathetic of the three genders. That they’re sensitive, emotional.”

“You believe that being an omega would suit Will.”

“No,” Jack corrects, harsh. “No, Will is an alpha, through and through. He just saves his aggression for certain people. He’s territorial. Protective. It keeps him focused when he would otherwise get lost or go astray. But after this? Who knows what will happen.”

* * *

There’s a much higher likelihood for betas to be chosen than alphas. Besides the fact that betas outnumber alphas by three to one, the transition is smoother for betas, less drastic and stressful upon the body. That being said, an alpha being chosen is not unheard of. It’s a lottery system. Some even apply for it, ask to be chosen.

The possibility of being chosen is a reality for everyone. It’s a civil duty that all citizens of America must accept upon turning eighteen. Like jury duty, maybe.

But no one ever imagines that they’ll be the ones chosen.

Certainly not Will Graham.

* * *

“I need to check on my dogs,” Will says. “Can you turn back? It’ll only be a moment. I just realized I forgot to feed them. I have seven, and they go crazy without me.”

He’s never forgotten to feed his pack even once.

“Mr. Graham, I’m going to need you to remain in your seat.”

Will didn’t even realize he’d risen into a half crouch. He licks his lips again, tongue tracing his fangs.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” he tries again. It’s a weak excuse, and he knows it. The oldest trick in the book.

“It won’t be for much longer,” the guard replies, eyes studying Will intently, curiously.

Will’s skin crawls at the way those eyes trace him. He wonders if the guard will participate.

* * *

It’s called secondary gender transition, by medical experts.

The process of prompting those precious, precious unexpressed omegan genes, of triggering a biological, bodily transformation. It involves overwhelming the system with hormones in as many ways as possible, up to and including exposing it to various bodily fluids. This is done to the point where a kind of biological reversal happens, an accident of nature hurried along by modern science. No one likes to talk about how the process was first discovered to be possible, but now it has been legitimized by research. Epigenetics at its finest.

Without all the jargon, one might describe it as “getting knotted six ways to Sunday”. Or maybe, “fucked into omegahood”.

Most simply call it, “bitching”.

* * *

Will wonders why they bother having him in a hospital gown when the most vulnerable parts of him are exposed. He’s on a hospital bed, a spreader bar that hangs from the ceiling keeping his knees locked apart and his ass and dick exposed. He’s so busy trying not to think too hard about anything that’s happening that he almost doesn’t notice when the nurse lubes up a plug, and slides it into his ass.

To get him ready. To make sure there isn’t any tearing that can impede the transformation process.

It’s a strange, foreign feeling and he clenches instinctively, trying to force it out. He groans at the feeling, squirming a little at the uncomfortable sensation.

“Relax,” the nurse says, “it’ll be easier for you that way.”

Her voice sounds pitying.

It’s all very clinical, very professional, except for the fact that he has three armed guards at his door, he’s handcuffed to the bed, and they won’t even let him free to eat on his own.

* * *

Will had always thought “Get bitched” was a crass saying. Zeller uses it all the time though, and he’d never bothered to correct him.

He wonders if Zeller will continue to do so in his presence after he returns, if he even gets to return.

They’ll know, of course. Everyone will know.

They’ll be able to smell it on him.

* * *

They come by every few hours to switch out the plugs, stretching him out. Prepping him for a knot. The plugs are heavy, wide. They sit unnaturally inside him, a pressure he can’t ignore. Sometimes if he shifts the wrong way they brush up against something that tingles up his spine. The nurses politely refrain from commenting when he, inevitably and humiliatingly, begins to sport a half-chub. They don’t really comment on anything at all, besides softly spoken orders and curtly given information. The bare minimum.

But Will can see it, anyway. That they know. That they’re aware that everything they do to him makes them complicit in this grand nightmare. They can prep him all they want, feed him, keep him hydrated, be as professional as they want—it doesn’t change the fact that it’s all a bunch of fanfare to mask the fact that he’s about to be raped.

Fucked by the system. Literally.

When the time comes, they strap him down to a bench. Forearms and calves buckled down on flat cushions, a bar beneath his hips to keep them canted upwards in the standard presenting position. A couple of nurses come by, sliding needles into his arm.

Hormones, necessary to kickstart the process.

Mild sedative, so he’ll be calm, less aggressive, less likely to fight back.

Muscle relaxant. So he’ll be relaxed, pliant. Fuckable.

A wide, cone-like collar is placed around his neck. That one, he knows the purpose of. To protect the soon-to-be mating gland.

It doesn’t take long for the sedative kick in, but when it does, he feels woozy. Like his head is stuffed full of clouds. He’s light, free, floaty. He clenches his hands into fists then releases them, fingers feeling strangely weak and bloodless.

That’s when the other alphas are let in.

* * *

The government’s official stance on it is that it is an honor. An opportunity to serve the country, to make a sacrifice for the good of mankind. As a result, there’s no reason to hide it. Heat suppressants, scent blockers, along with abortions, contraceptives—those are a thing of the past. Outlawed, decades ago.

There used to be a quota, for babies produced. In 1989 that part was abolished due to protests. But the sexual assault rates didn’t go down, even as successful indictments did. As they say, “when in heat, give ‘em what they want.” 

And what they want is always what the alpha wants. Or beta.

Just never the omega.

* * *

Will hears their voices through an ocean, muffled and soft and slurred in his ears. He looks up a bit, but he can’t turn enough to see them. He realizes he doesn’t want to, doesn’t need to.

Would rather they not see his face.

But one of them steps up in front of him, tugs his chin up. It forces Will’s neck into an awkward arch, puts a strain on his shoulders from where his arms are strapped down. He blinks blearily up at the ceiling, the bright lights blurring in and out of focus.

“A pretty one, isn’t he?”

“Hell, he’s already halfway there. Look at those eyes.”

“Think he signed up for this? One of those freaky sluts?”

One of them reaches down to fondle him, feeling the excess skin around the base of his cock.

“Got a knot.”

“No shit. Really? Thought he was a beta.”

Will wants to growl at them. All that comes out is a low grumble, and some drool.

“Aw, look at that. He likes me.”

He wonders how they choose them. Do they do background checks? They’re sure to be clean, at least, that’s for sure. Do they look for alphas without a criminal record? Or is it the opposite—are they criminals, here to work off part of their sentence with a bit of community service?

_ “Gentlemen, you may start,” _a staticky voice says over the intercom, before clicking off. There’s the unceremonious sound of belts clinking, dropping to the floor.

“I’m going first.”

“Fuck off, I’m going first.”

“Stupid. Being last is the best, that’s when he’ll be closer to being an omega. Nothing better to fuck than an omega.”

“What kind of alpha are you? First is best, that’s when they’re tight. Last gets them all loose and sloppy.”

“Maybe I like ‘em loose ‘n sloppy.”

Will stares at the tiles below him, ears ringing. He feels sweat growing beneath his pits, collecting at his hairline. One of the alphas sniffs the air, at the thickening scent of angry, territorial alpha.

“Got a feisty one here.”

“All the better. We’ll fuck it right outta him.”

The first alpha lines up, hot palms coming down to squeeze at Will’s ass, pushing the cheeks together then apart, whistling at the sight of the plug nestled inside. Will’s heartbeat grows loud in his ears, his breathing quickens.

“Shh, it’s all right pretty boy,” another one says, brushing a hand through his hair. “You’ll grow to like it, don’t worry.”

The plug is removed, Will’s hole widening and closing around it as it slips out. Will can feel how open he is, the cool air against his hole, the way he gapes, wide. The first alpha uncaps the lube and dribbles it onto Will’s hole, spreading it around and dipping his fingers in. Will instinctively tenses, clenching down.

“Relax,” they say, but how could he? How can he? That’s all they’ve said to him since he got here. “Relax.” “You’ll get used to it.” “It’ll be over before you know it.”

He tries to reign in the part of him that is growling, snapping, an insistent pressure inside his skull that tells him this _ isn’t supposed to happen what are you doing, get up, fight back, you cannot submit like this it is not allowed you are open and vulnerable and soft belly exposed you are being dominated and that is not who you are. That is not who you are. _

He tries to push back the anger and the fear because he _ can’t. _His head pounds, a war-drum, but why is it waging a war he cannot win?

_ Maybe it won’t be so bad, _he thinks and even his thoughts sound hysterical. This is already too much to handle, and they haven’t even begun. Every alphan instinct inside him is screaming, panicking. His vision flickers red with suppressed rage.

He doesn’t want this. _ He doesn’t want this. _

“N-no,” he manages just as the first alpha is sliding in and he can’t breathe and he’s shaking and trembling and— 

_ Big. _

The plugs were not enough. The cock in his ass feels _ huge, _deep. Surely they’re not supposed to be that big, that thick. Surely this is some kind of joke. Some kind of big, elaborate joke.

“Fuck,” the alpha groans. “Fuck yeah.”

He starts to move, thrusting long and deep, speeding up, slowing down, testing out different angles. Each movement jars all the way down Will’s spine, makes his hips bump into the bar holding them up, and it _ hurts _ . Everything hurts. The burning stretch licks its way down his spine, white-hot and screeching in protest as he most certainly does _ not _relax, muscles corded and tense and resistant and oh God how much cock does this guy have, there can’t be more, can there? His shoulders are already getting sore from holding the same position, from having to brace himself against the movement.

He can feel it when the alpha’s knot begins to swell, and that’s when he _ really _ begins to panic. His vision swims, blood pounding through his skull. His face is red, he can feel it. He growls, snaps at the hand that is stroking his face.

“No,” he says again, tongue thick and clumsy in his mouth. “No.”

“Baby, you don’t get to say no. This is your civic duty, remember?”

A ripple of laughter runs throughout the room. Will wonders how many there are.

“We’re just doin’ our jobs, baby. Don’t get mad at _ us. _Get mad at the big guy. We’re just here because we were told to come, just like you.”

The knot slapping up against his ass begins to push partway in as the alpha tries to force himself inside.

“Gettin’ close, pretty boy,” one of them says, a mocking smile in his voice.

The pain blooms and bursts and he can’t hold back the hoarse, choking cry when the alpha slams in, Will’s tight channel molded around the unnatural swell that locks them together. He is being flooded with heat, with humiliation, with cum, with disbelief. He’s ejected from his body and emptied out as another fills him, takes over. Everything is fuzzy, light speckling his vision as he forgets how to breathe.

He’s observing how the tiles on the floor are swirling and shifting when he’s slapped in the face with a hard cock.

“C’mon, whore,” one of them says. “Didja think we were gonna give you a break just because someone’s knot hasn’t come down?”

_ Fwap, fwap, fwap. _ Precum dribbles down the side of his face as the alpha repeatedly slaps his cock against it. The rest of them laugh, mocking. _ Fwap, fwap, fwap. _

It’s so stupidly, obscenely juvenile Will could cry. He grits his teeth, nostrils flaring as his eyes continue to struggle to focus on something in his surroundings, as the threads of reality unspool from between his fingers.

_ Fwap, fwap, fwap. _

_ Fwap, fwap, fwap. _

A hand yanking at his hair.

_ Fwap, fwap, fwap. _

_ Fwap, fwap, fwap. _

Will closes his eyes, and opens his mouth.

The guy shoves in, cock ramming straight into the back of Will’s throat and Will chokes, spittle flying out and dripping down his chin.

Two hands in his hair, tugging him forward like they want to rip his head from his shoulders. The smell of sour ball sweat and musk and foreign alpha pheromones, pungent and revolting. 

The alpha doesn’t hesitate to skull fuck him, even as Will’s face reddens and purples, as veins begin to stand out against his temples, as his eyes bulge and strain. The taste is bitter and thick, congealing and dripping down the back of his tongue and throat and Will vomits, choking, all over the guy’s dick. 

The alpha doesn’t even pause, just moans and half-heartedly pats his cheek, “‘S okay baby, I don’t mind.”

And then a second knot begins to swell in his mouth, behind his teeth. It grows, and grows, and grows, and with a cock shoved down his throat and his jaws stretched so wide they begin to creak, he can’t breathe. Not through his nose, not through his mouth, not with his airway blocked. He struggles feebly, heart hammering against his ribcage like a child throwing their fists against a door. His vision tunnels, his thoughts reduced to a wailing, single-toned siren, he’s gonna die, he’s gonna die, he’s gonna die, _ he’s gonna die _—

The blackness leaks in and covers his vision.

* * *

He comes to with a pounding headache and another cock in his ass. He doesn’t know how long he was out, how much he was used during that time, but his ass hurts and his jaw is sore. This one doesn’t experiment the way the first one did, he grips Will’s cheeks in his hands, squeezing the muscles and ramming into him, fast and hard and punishing. Maybe he’s trying to compensate for the fact that another alpha’s cum is leaking out of Will as he’s fucked. His fingers dig crescents into Will’s flesh, his bruising grip just another stake to claim the ground that is Will’s body. 

Drool slides thick from Will’s open mouth. He coughs, and realizes it’s more cum. The thick, viscous texture makes him gag. That’s when another alpha steps up in front of his face and the sedative must have worn off some because Will _ refuses. _ He _ refuses. _

He snaps his teeth, bites, growls, flings himself against the restraints.

But then the alpha behind him grabs his hips, pulls him back onto his cock, and then he’s locked in place again, the new knot pressing up against everything that is already sore inside of him.

When he snaps his teeth threateningly again he gets socked in the face. Fist against the ridge of his cheekbone, blood filling his mouth, vision blacking out and ears hearing white for a split second before his nose is pinched closed and he has no choice but to open his mouth and let them in again.

This one’s smaller than the last, just enough for Will to wheeze around his cock, just enough to stay barely conscious. He’s bleary and his body is melting off his bones and sweat slicks across his skin in a heavy sheen. 

Will is beginning to tune out the wet sound of fucking, beginning to rock into the feeling of being filled and emptied and filled again. A tension builds up in his belly, in his thighs and around his hips. He’s hard. The pounding in his skull is blurring together into a high that he finds he quite likes, even as the throbbing syncs with the growing bruise on his cheek.

A hard smack against his ass makes him dip his head above the murk, and he moans. 

“You like that?”

Smack.

“Gonna mark you up, you freak.”

The alpha is not gentle with his spanking. He goes full force, winding up all the way and letting it fly. Will’s flesh ripples and reddens and stings, then the alpha digs his hands into the mark, massaging it and growling. 

“This is taking too long.”

“Whatcha gonna do about it? A knots a knot.”

“Hey, watch this.”

Warmth hits Will’s back, crawls its way down his spine. 

It’s piss. They’re pissing on him, scentmarking him. Claiming him. Another joins in, the hot liquid spraying over his skin, irritating the gouges along his sides from where someone had raked their nails down his flanks. 

The knot in his mouth begins to die down just as his vision begins to grey. His head is yanked up and he doesn’t fight back this time, letting them pull his hair from the root, letting his mouth hang open, tongue lolling out. The alpha laughs, dragging a finger across his tongue, pleased to see no cum. He’d swallowed it all. He hocks up a loogie, letting the saliva drip from his mouth and into Will’s, and Will does nothing except let it drip down his throat. He swallows again.

“Good boy,” the alpha rumbles, pleased.

Will is beginning to feel numb, dazed. His mind is far away, he’s barely cognizant of what is going on. His body thrums, the pain coalescing and transcending into something beyond physical sensation. His hips are bruised, his lower abdomen is sore, his back aches, his shoulders and neck cramp. None of it matters.

Nothing matters.

Nothing regarding Will Graham, anyway.

Cum lands on his face, nearly dripping into his eyes and he doesn’t even care. He’s nothing. Just a ragdoll.

He doesn’t care when more warmth floods inside him, more than there should be.

“Fuck! That’s disgusting man! I don’t wanna put my dick inside your toilet!”

The alpha pulls his knot out and a mixture of piss and cum gushes out, adding to the coating already there along Will’s sticky thighs. 

“Doesn’t matter man, he’s already used goods. Look at him.”

Will can’t even clench his hole closed now. He gapes, wide open. Someone sticks their fingers inside and pulls up, whistling low at the sight of him opening, stretching easily.

“Hey, think we could…?”

“Worth a shot. Too loose to be a good fuck otherwise.”

One of them lays themself over his back, hands and legs bracketing his. He slides in with no resistance, Will barely even feels it.

Then another pushes in and Will lets out a whine, a choked off whimper. They fuck him ruthlessly, their rhythms messy and off, the alpha hanging over him grunting right into his ear, “Yeah baby, yeah, just like that, fuck, fuck yeah.”

They rub up inside of him, cocks brushing up against a new opening that is just beginning to form inside. It feels...good. Really good.

The first one’s knot begins to swell, and he and the other alpha groan simultaneously at the way their passage narrows, increasing the friction. Then the second one’s knot begins to inflate as well and they both shove in, grunting like animals. 

Will whimpers again, then chokes out a dry sob, shaking apart underneath the weight of them. He’s wrecked. He’s ruined. He’ll never be the same again.

But that’s the point, isn’t it?

The combined knots grow, and grow, and grow. Will wonders how far along he must already be, for it not to tear.

And then he’s being flooded with cum, his belly now slightly rounded with the weight of how many alphas’ cum and piss he doesn’t know. He has the strangest urge to press down on it, to feel it, but his arms are still buckled down. 

Finally, finally, one of them pulls out. Then the other.

Is it over?

“Fuck, dude. I’m not sticking my cock in there.”

“You said you liked ‘em sloppy.”

“That’s not what I meant. That’s disgusting.”

Will is so broken, his person so offensive, that he’s not even good enough to fuck anymore. The last alpha jerks off unceremoniously, spraying his seed over Will’s back.

Will is still half-hard, and the humiliation of it burns through him like a hot poker being shoved down his throat and into his gut.

The alphas all spit on him on their way out, and then the first session ends.

* * *

They feed him. Not that it matters, because he always ends up throwing it all up over some alpha’s dick, anyway. When he’s not being knotted, he’s plugged. They give him cursory wipe-downs and daily injections, but he isn’t allowed to bathe. Not allowed to remove the fluids that dry and stick to his skin.

He begins to notice the differences as the days pass.

The knots start to feel...bearable. And then good. There are new, tender places inside of him that light up and send unfamiliar sensations through him. He starts moaning more, being more vocal. They don’t even sedate him anymore.

Sometimes he even comes.

Sometimes someone pinches his nipples, or brushes over them, or bites them. At first it’s just annoying, and then they start getting sensitive. Tender. The collar around his neck starts to itch. It’s uncomfortable, his neck and nape growing more and more sensitive.

“My dogs,” he tells one of the nurses. “Someone needs to feed my dogs.” He gives them Alana’s number, and they promise to pass along the message. Those are the only words he’s uttered since that last “No”. 

He loses weight, and muscle mass. His back is fucked up, his hips one large mass of mottled purple and green. 

Like this, two weeks pass.

* * *

When they wheel him out, he’s clutching a shiny, pink pamphlet that reads, _ “So You’re an Omega Now. Now What?” _and two thousand extra dollars in his bank account, as compensation.

He blinks up at the sun, as best as he can with one eye swollen shut. He thinks they may have hosed him down, he’s not sure. He couldn’t have showered by himself though. 

“Where to, sir?”

He mumbles his address. The car ride is spent in blissful blankness. Will doesn’t feel anything at all. He likes it that way. 

He finds, even, that somewhere inside of him he’s excited to see his dogs again. 

When they arrive, it takes him an embarrassingly long time to move. His hands shake as they unlock the door, and when it swings open Alana is there. She gasps at the sight of him, and when his hand flies out for balance, she cringes backwards for a second before grabbing hold of his arm and helping him stand.

He limps across the lawn, up to the front of the house. He doesn’t say thank you.

“Will,” she says, her voice wet. “Will, if you need help—”

“No.”

He’s not surprised when she ignores it. No one listens when he says “no”. Not Alana. Not Jack. Not any of those alphas. No one.

“Will, please, you need help. I can help you. Or I can call Hannibal, if you’d prefer him—”

Will closes the door in her face. Locking it.

“Will!” She calls from outside. He can hear her pacing, talking to someone over the phone. Worried.

It’s. Too much. Too much. He can’t. Handle other people. Not right now. He can’t handle _ anything _ right now. 

His eyes are burning from how dry they feel, he’s been dissociating wildly for about five days straight now. He doesn’t feel human. Nothing feels like him, nothing about him feels like Will Graham. 

He just wants to cuddle up with his dogs, and forget. Be left alone for awhile. Maybe disappear, just disintegrate, ivory bone powder and sand skin, to be blown away by the next gust of wind.

His dogs are sniffing around him. They must not be able to recognize him under the scent of all those alphas.

Will offers his wrist up, where the scent glands are, waiting for them to pounce on him with their happy doggy-ness, their wet noses and tongues and warm fur. 

But then Buster growls, and barks. Then the others begin to mill around, unsettled, as Buster works himself up. And then they’re all barking, taking defensive postures against him and Will doesn’t _ understand, _what’s going on, he can’t have— 

_ “So you’re an Omega now. Now what?” _

He realizes with the slow dawning horror of an oncoming wave, that an alpha’s scent and an omega’s scent can’t possibly be the same.

They don’t know who he is.

And that’s when, finally, Will lets himself cry.

**Author's Note:**

> in this au bitching requires the hormone injections in order for it to happen successfully. that's why alpha/alpha and alpha/beta relationships are still possible without one of them turning into an omega
> 
> also, disclaimer: i didn't come up with the idea for bitching, it's an existing, albeit somewhat obscure omegaverse trope that i noticed the hannibal fandom doesn't seem familiar with. *shrugs* now u know


End file.
